Like Birds in the Wind
by sorceress2
Summary: A TomoyoEriol Alterfic. Elegantly depressing. Finished! Make my day and RR. Thanks. Finished!
1. Bird-of-Paradise No Longer

Like Birds in the Wind

Chapter 1: The Bird-of-Paradise No Longer

An Eriol/Tomoyo Alterfic

Good afternoon. You are well, I trust? I am glad, then. You must forgive my abruptness, but there is the matter at hand. Yes, _that_ matter at hand. Please do make yourself comfortable. I will conclude the story after all, contrary to what others have said for so many years, and bring a peace to the events surrounding my husband's death and what happened after. There is much to be told.

My name is Anna. My late husband, Hiiragizawa Eriol. My maiden name is Windsor, I being of a minor branch of the British royalty. I had just recently started to reuse it again, some thirty years after the Eriol's passing. I started to reuse it after the truth of my late husband's past came into the light. And this is the past that I shall tell of to you.

It all started one day in a little town east of London, a cold, dreary day when there was a stinging icy wind at the train station. I had recently arrived there from the warmer regions of the southern estates of my mother, the 14th in line for the throne. My father had died some years ago. I had embarked on this journey to meet a close friend, Maria Delessandro Sandomere and her mother, Anita Delessandro. They were the niece and sister of the Queen of Spain, and were very highly regarded within the elite circles of Europe. My mother had hoped to show me some of the world before college and marriage. There were few other choices for me. So I went, not knowing that this fateful journey would change the entire course of my life, if you will excuse my using the worn-out cliché.

I stood there at the train depot, shivering and wet and thoroughly miserable, all the while thinking of the relative warmth of the south. That was when Maria and her mother appeared. They wore very finely tailored clothing, expensive and exquisite and at the height of fashion. As usual, they came with the exuberance, the warmth of the Mediterranean Sea itself, and enveloped me in hugs and lavished attention on me. Then they ushered me to the train. We were bound for London.

The entire ride was quite uneventful until it neared its end, and that was when I met my future husband. Eriol. I was walking during a particularly turbulent part of the ride, and nearly fell onto my seatmate when I tried to sit down. He wasn't really even my seatmate, having rented out his entire half of the compartment to himself, while Maria, her mother, and I sat at the other half. Immediately, two strong, beautifully made hands steadied on my waist, and the scent of clean-smelling cologne enveloped me, mingling with the smell of sunned linen.

After I had sat down next to a dozing Senora Delessandro and a reading Maria, I thanked my seatmate for his assistance. Even then, and until the day of his death, he was extraordinarily beautiful. He had deep, brilliantly blue eyes that were so dark they were almost like black in dim light, and blackish-blue hair that had a tendency to be very unruly. Sometimes women would just stare at him for a moment, in a trance, perhaps trying to see if his eyes were black or blue, as you could not distinguish their hue in dull weather. Even few women came to his level of beauty, and he carried himself casually, as if unaware of his exquisiteness, making him all the more handsome. He had nodded politely at me, and gave me an abbreviated bow, as graceful, even sitting, as a dancing master who was born with that innate fluidity of movement. It was quite breathtaking. Even under a heavy navy-blue coat, I could see an impressive physique, and the power of his movements accentuated it.

I do not remember exactly how we got to talk to one another, but we ended up chatting quite companionably, and I discovered that he too, was bound for London to meet with a friend. He was fascinating. I cannot recall the exact moment when I decided that I was in love with him, but I think it came soon after our conversation. That was how enigmatic, how very fascinating he was. After our small talk had died out, Maria insisted that I accompany her to the ladies' room. I acquiesced.

As we were walking down the narrow hall lined with fine polished wood, Maria gave out the greatest ear-shattering squeal.

_/You talked to him/_ She had said.

_/Who/ _I was confused.

_/Him/ _Maria had replied excitedly, as if I should automatically know the owner of that pronoun. She was sometimes such a fluttery goose.

_/You mean the young man sitting in our seat compartment/_ Maria rolled her eyes at me sarcastically.

_/You are so dense sometimes, my dear. Of course him/ _Why on earth had she been so excited?

_/Is there something special about that/_ Maria looked at me disbelievingly.

_/Do you mean to tell me, Anna Sophia Windsor, that you didn't know that you were talking with Eriol Hiiragizawa/_

Since I had been stuck in the south, far from London, I hadn't heard of the most popular young man among the elite of London.

_/Who is he/ _I had asked.

Maria only shook her head at my ignorance, and then dragged me into the restroom for a half-hour and proceeded to fill me in on everything that I had been missing, since being treated like a prisoner, residing the southern estates. Eriol Hiiragizawa was a close friend, perhaps the best friend of the crown prince. He lived the first ten years of his life in England and Scotland, but had proceeded to travel the world, to many places until he was eighteen. He had been all over Europe, with a summer home in Bordeaux, France, and another in Tuscany, Italy, a flat in Rome at the Piazza del Foscari, and he had an expansive home in Japan, which was where his Japanese grandfather had been born. Some speculated that in Tomoeda, Japan, he had met a girl with whom he was absolutely infatuated with, a gorgeous black-haired beauty that he had brought to London once, when she was visiting. Even at seventeen, Eriol had seemed enamored with the young girl. He had gone to China and Hong Kong with some close childhood friends, but he hadn't yet brought those friends with him to England.

Maria had continued to list his many talents, one of which was being remarkably well educated for a man of his age, only twenty-one. I was nineteen at that time. He spoke flawless Japanese and English, as well as Chinese, French, and proficient Italian. Some said that he was studying German, too. He had an extensive art collection. When he was in China a few years back, visiting a close friend in Hong Kong, he learned from a martial arts instructor there, the one who had trained his friend, all that there was to know about fighting. It was said that he could kill with any two fingers on a hand. He was an acclaimed piano virtuoso, hating to play in public, but had only done so once, and it was long ago, at the funeral of the Queen Mother of England, of which the rulers of thirty nations, including the President of the United States, had attended. He had gotten many requests after that, but managed to politely decline all.

I was quite impressed with this long list of stunning achievements. I had been listening avidly, fascinated. Of course, Maria informed me that I would quickly become popular if I made it out that I knew Eriol. I didn't know what to do. And Maria was envious of me, my plain little self, a very sparrow when compared to her. If I was a sparrow, then Maria was definitely a peacock, or at least a bird-of-paradise, with its wildly exotic plumage and gorgeous shape. I had fancied myself as rather dull. It was a refreshing change to have Maria jealous of me for once. I had always rather been the shy sparrow, but it was exhilarating to be the bird-of-paradise.

When I had been thinking at that time, I was very much a naiveté and knew nothing that worldly people, like Maria or Eriol knew. I still had my childhood fancies of a Prince Charming who would pick me out of crowds of adoring female fans, all at random, and carry me off to the sunset where we would live happily ever after. I must warn you that it is so very rarely that way.

Well? What did you think? I really like the idea of this story, told from Anna's point of view. I really should post my Rayearth fanfic, but I haven't gotten to it yet. I think that the story of Emeraude and Zagato is absolutely charming, albeit in a very sad way. I know exactly where I am going with this story, unlike For Your Sake, where I just wrote random, pretty things for recreation. Oh well. This one has a nice plot, I think.


	2. The Violet Swan Queen

Like Birds in the Wind

Chapter 2: The Violet Swan Queen

An Eriol/Tomoyo Alterfic

From almost before I could remember, I always had hated large public gatherings. Concerts, I did not mind that much because I didn't have to converse with others. But I made strict reservations about dinner parties and concert-receptions, which was what this was. But someone was going to be there. The knowledge of the presence of that someone was my motivation to coax a five thousand dollar dress out of my mother and keep jealous watch over my hair. Everything had to be perfect.

I had been in London for about two months now, made some close friends, and largely extended my circle of general friends with the help of one Eriol Hiiragizawa. Yes, he had continued to be in my life when I stayed in London, and unknowingly, he had made me fall even more in love with him. Although we were not the best of friends, Eriol was very friendly towards me, as though he would a little sister whom he tried to protect from all external threats. That was only when we were in the presence of each other, which was not often. But when we did see each other, he was friendly and affectionate and that made a horde of female friends come to me, all for the hope that Eriol might one day see them as a potential female companion. 

For all of Eriol's popularity, it was the girls who truly worshipped him. Crowds of females, young and old, flocked to wherever he went, and the prince himself, a very handsome young man, had joked that he wanted only half of Eriol's female attention, then would he have fifty lifetimes' worth of wives. Perhaps the prince had that much.

Maria strode into my boudoir regally, resplendent in her brilliant turquoise silk taffeta gown that had been made by London's foremost designer, a man whose name I cannot remember. She anxiously watched her hair in the large mirror, as if afraid that it might fall to pieces if she did not constantly keep vigil over it, and preened uselessly. She was another one of Eriol's admirers.

_/I am so glad that you are my friend, Annie./ _ She said. 

_/Are you?/ _I had replied.

_/Or is it just because I am friends with Eriol?/ _I asked with a sly smile. She looked indignant for a moment, but then her demeanor softened. There was a fond smile on her face.

_/Annie, you are a darling, but you do know me too well./_ She admitted in her elegant Spanish accent.

_/You don't mind, do you?/ _Maria watched me anxiously for a moment.

_/I couldn't bear it if you did. Please tell me that you don't mind that I am completely in love with Eriol./ _Of course like the dutiful best friend I was, I lied and said that I didn't mind at all. I threw in my own fond smile.

_/I _do_ know you very well, Marrie. We have known each other since we were children, and I am happy for you that you have found him./_

 For a moment, Maria did not look like the queenly young woman she so often looked, only an insecure girl with a quavering smile. I embraced her. Oh, I was so fond of her that I could not bring myself to let her know of the truth, that I too, like she, was in love with Eriol. We walked out of my room with arms linked, chatting and giggling like young girls.

I was so nervous to see him again after two weeks, that my heart was pounding and I could hardly breathe. He really did have that affect on women, with his charming smile and penetrating gaze. Eriol was by no means effeminate; he was one of the most popular people among the males, too. Even the elderly gentlemen liked him. I smiled at Maria encouragingly, and patted her hand. She looked as nervous as I felt. 

When we had entered, the beginning reception that would then become a dinner party, then a concert, had just begun. Maria asked me to look for Eriol, and I gladly agreed. It was not hard to locate him, being in the crowd of females, and many males, too. Just then, one of my friends, Katrina Zolovsky of the Ukraine, came to me hurriedly.

_/Annie, _she had said, _Eriol brought some of his friends to this reception. You must go and see it with me!_ /So Katrina, Maria, and I hurried to the large crowd, of which only some half dozen or less individuals stood. Eriol had been talking with a tall young man with hazel hair, and smiled when he saw me.

_/Anna, you are looking very pretty tonight. I have not seen you since the dinner party at Lord Rochester's, is it? Come, you must meet with some of my friends./_ Oh, I was melting, but I tried my best to conceal it. Eriol led me to the young man with hazel hair and captivating dark eyes. The young man was breathtakingly handsome.

_/This is a close friend of mine, Syaoran Li. He has just arrived from Hong Kong. He is the Li Clan Leader./_ Eriol put a look of mock-awe on his face at Syaoran's title. Syaoran threw him a dirty look, and nodded his head at me genteelly.

_/And this is his wife, the beautiful Sakura Kinomoto./_ Sakura smiled warmly at me, and murmured something about my dress. Her hair was auburn, shimmering almost as much as large emerald eyes that seemed to drown you momentarily in their depths. She was beautiful, the sort of timeless beauty that you saw so rarely these days. There was a radiance to her like the sun, so bright and gorgeous, except it was gentle. She moved with an exuberance that made you feel awed at her, and you could somehow tell that everything she said was sincere, was genuine. She was like a goddess, almost. Then Eriol's eyes softened, and he held out a hand to a woman, who put her delicately sculpted hand in his.

_/And this,/ _Eriol murmured, /_is Tomoyo Daidouji./_ I somehow tore my eyes away from him to see whom it was who commanded his attention so loyally. When I saw her, that moment I would never forget. I saw a woman who was so beautiful that I could do nothing but stare. I had never before seen anyone so beautiful. She had the most enigmatic, elusive eyes of a brilliant violet with a tint of grey. They were surrounded by long, thick black lashes that were as dark as her wavy hair, full and long. It was up at the moment, in a silver tiara of very fine wire that made the coiffure so artful it seemed random. The tiara was barely visible unless you were close to her, but then the workmanship was breathtaking. She was not very tall, but sufficiently so, with a willow slender-frame and graceful movements. Her dress was a brilliant amethyst, and was so beautiful that I could not even be envious.

This Tomoyo took my hand and smiled at me, a mysterious and gorgeous smile that was like magic, that cast the onlookers into a spell, both male and female. If Sakura was almost like a goddess, then Tomoyo certainly was the queen of goddesses. There was something in her so removed from mundane women that none could resist the urge to stare. Her very grace and queenly movements made me feel so very ordinary, it made me momentarily forget everything except how inferior that I was to her. 

After I had broken from the spell cast by Tomoyo, I had the sudden awful realization that this was the black-haired beauty that the young men had been raving about, that all the girls had been gossiping about. It my trance that I had whenever I was about to see Eriol, I had not paid attention to the gossip that had run wild. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I started to remember what the girls had all been saying.

Tomoyo apparently was the daughter of a very rich businesswoman in Japan, making her one of the richest women on the planet, and had everything that she had ever wanted. Tomoyo, along with Syaoran and Sakura, were Eriol's childhood friends from when he had lived in Japan. She had the most beautiful voice. Tomoyo sang Italian arias and operas, and it was said that Eriol would only play the piano for her, and no one else. She had a brilliant mind, and spoke perfect English along with Japanese, Chinese, and Italian. Tomoyo was quite good at French, too. Because she was so good at Italian, it was rumored that Eriol called her carissima, Italian for darling. It was said that Eriol intended to marry her.

At these memories, I felt more and more inferior, until it seemed that I was merely a little child with a runny nose and scraped knee, along with a torn and muddy dress. I felt awful. How was I to compete with a talented, beautiful daughter of one of the richest women in the world, who was perfect in every way, as perfect as Eriol was? How was I to compete with someone so beautiful that it made even the most jealous of rivals forget themselves and stare, fascinated, like everyone else?

Tomoyo was like a swan. She was graceful and beautiful and timeless, as a swan is. Her neck was even allusory to a swan's neck, reminding me of a story that I had read once, of the King Harold who lost at the Battle of Hastings. He had a beautiful wife, Ealdgyth, whom was called the Lady Swan Neck. Tomoyo fit that perfectly.

Apparently, I was not the only one thinking these thoughts. Katrina looked crestfallen, and Maria was having great difficulty containing her tears. I hastily excused myself and helped Maria to the bathroom.

Maria was sobbing by the time we reached the ladies' room. 

_/Oh Annie./_ She had said despairingly._ /How can I ever get him to even notice me? I am certainly not like you. You were bold enough to talk to him on that train, and now you are good friends with him./_ I thought that my face was anguished, too. Tomoyo was a huge blow to me.

_/I don't know./ _I said slowly. /_Perhaps if you just spoke with him casually?/_

Even bawling loudly, Maria managed to throw me a disdainful look.

/But Annie, didn't you notice the way that he looked at that Tomoyo? He is desperately in love with her. How is any woman to compete with someone who looks like Tomoyo, not to mention her talent and her brilliant mind and her wealth and her—/ I cut Maria off. I couldn't stand this.

/There is always a way, Marrie. There is!/ My inspirational talk had not done much apparently; Maria burst out into fresh tears.

It was just then when someone wearing a gorgeous lace-and taffeta confection of amethyst silk walked into the ladies' room. It was Tomoyo.

/Eriol is very worried about you, Miss Windsor. And you, Miss Sandomere. He told me to see how you are doing./ For a moment, I could not even process what she had said because I had been savoring the most beautiful voice in the world. After she had stopped speaking, I was desperate to hear more. But I forced myself to speak.

/Maria and I are alright, Miss Daidouji. You mustn't worry about us. And tell Eriol that we are all right. Thank you, Miss Daidouji./  Tomoyo smiled again kindly, and told us. 

/Please wait here for a moment. I will be back very quickly./ And then she left in a flurry of violet taffeta and heavenly scented perfume. Maria and I exchanged looks. Tomoyo had apparently shocked Maria into stopping her infernal bawling.

When Tomoyo returned, she was carrying a glass of ice water and a silver spoon resting in it. She smiled in a motherly way towards Maria. 

/A cold spoon pressed to the eyes will reduce swelling, and I have something for the redness./ She said simply. She then concentrated on pressing the ice-cold spoon to Maria's eyes, and gradually their swelling went away. After that, Tomoyo gently instructed Maria to put in eye drops which made quick work of the redness, and expertly applied concealer to her face. Maria looked as if she hadn't been crying at all. Tomoyo smiled.

/There. I think you are all right to go out now. Do you need anything else, Miss Sandomere?/ Maria shook her head stiffly. Tomoyo gave a last smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder, and exited the room with the grace of a swan.

I profoundly was shocked at the scene that I had just witnessed. Everyone could tell point-blank that Maria was in love with Eriol, but for someone who almost owned Eriol for herself, Tomoyo had been as kind as a mother. Or a best friend. At that moment, I surrendered myself to the inevitable truth. It was Tomoyo who deserved Eriol, through her kindness and her saintliness and her beauty, as well as the thousand other good things about her. And Eriol loved her as the night loved the stars, the very moon herself. If Tomoyo had been callous or rude or vindictive, I could still find it in myself to hate her; she was an angel and there was nothing more to be said about it.

I dragged Maria out of the room before she could start to cry again. 

All through the elegant dinner of nine courses, appetizers, soup, a fish entrée, a meat entrée, a fowl entrée, garden salad, a cheese course, hot beverages, and dessert, I could eat little of anything except for my favorite dessert, white chocolate and rasberry cheesecake. I only sat there, in a silent, morose study of Eriol and Tomoyo, who sat near us. I could tell that every male within eyesight of Tomoyo was staring at her, or at least stealing long glances when their female companions were not looking. As a matter of fact, many of the women in the large banquet hall would sometimes just look at her for a moment. That was how very intoxicating she was, how very addictive. I wondered how Eriol felt. 

I looked to Eriol, and the proof of his love for her was reaffirmed once again, reaffirmed a thousand times every time he looked at her, every time he touched her. It was not especially noticeable, but sometimes it was there, in the way that he looked at her, or the way that he treated her. Like a princess. She was a princess in her own right, without need to have been born to it. Her radiance would have dimmed any other princess or queen anyway. Eriol looked so happy, even when he wasn't smiling. Though my heart was breaking and I was falling and falling into despair, there was something so breathtaking in their mutual love that I could not help but look on wistfully and wish for a love half as intense. Even then, I did not know that I might yet never receive that love, even if I loved that person with all my heart and soul.

I think this plot is really nice. Thought out, for once. Yay! Of course, I do have many more parts to go. I bet you're wondering why Anna said that Eriol was her husband if she knows that he was so in love with Tomoyo, aren't you? Well its not like I'm going to say anything. I'll just let you ferment slowly for however long it takes for me to finish the story. Very slowly. I have been called evil many, many times, you know. Don't worry that I'm lacking. But thanks for your concern.


	3. An Ancient Raven Returned

Like Birds in the Wind

Chapter 3: An Ancient Raven Returned

An Eriol/Tomoyo Alterfic

The events at the dinner party had a lasting effect on me. I became morose sometimes, and throughout the months, it came to me more than ever. Little did I know that he -Eriol- was going to propose. To me.

All people dream, except those who are at Death's Doorway, and my dreams were no exception. It was said that only a miniscule percentage of people dreamed with color, and I was one of those privleged people who were able to see a brilliant array, a veritable rainbow palette in their sleep. These colors that I saw while in slumber gave me the ideas for the oil canvases that I painted, and as Eriol once proclaimed, were worthy enough to be called not just a piece of art, but an objet d'art. These dreams gave me the inspiration for my quasi-Art Noveau Rococco pieces that I did. They helped me keep my despair at bay.

It was strange how sometimes love is our undoing, how very addictive that rush of blood in our ears and that pounding heart is. I was determined to win Eriol, yet somehow I had a vague sense that he would never be mine completely. I should have listened to that inner voice.

At this time, it was a brilliant summer now. I lived near a park, the Park of Godwinson. It was impeccably laid out, and seemed an idyllic paradise of Renoir. Renoir, with his eternally sunny spur-of-the-moment flashes of the lesser moments in life, somehow magnified by his potraying them, by his capturing them in their enforced merriment forever. This was when my life changed sharply. I had come to the park to ruminate in the late afternoon, and it was night now. I knew that Senora Dellesandro would be worried, but I preversely was determined to not care. 

Then a sound came, a young woman chanting in Japanese. I stood from the cool marble bench, frowning, and went to seek out the sound. There had been a clearing in the wood, an almost perfect circle of grass and wildflowers. Then I saw it. Sakura Kinomoto, the beautiful young wife of the clan leader of the Lis of Hong Kong, held a staff which had come out of oblivion. It just appeared. I gasped loudly, but I was sure that they couldn't hear me over the howl of the wind that wrapped itself around her almost gently with its unseen strength.

No, _they_ couldn't hear me. Syaoran Li was there, and so was Tomoyo, and –with a great shock- so was Eriol. I could not take my eyes off him. he seemed even more handsome calling some unknown magic, holding a tall staff, with a controlled expression on his face.

/This is not good./ Eriol muttered darkly. Sakura looked up, precise and cool in a deep green formal dress, and as I could see from its gleam, was the finest silk taffetta. 

/No, it is not. What tutelage do you have for me, Reincarnation of Clow Reed?/ her words were cool. I was so shocked by this time that even the news that Eriol was a reincarnation did not stir me. Perhaps I had taken to believing that it was some sort of mistake. Eriol looked distracted.

/My dear Sakura, this was a pair of cards in the deck that I created. They were apart from the rest of the Clow, er, Sakura Cards. That is why you didn't have to capture them to transform the deck. These might be looked at somewhat like jokers. They are the War Card and the Plague Card, a last resort to take down the human population. No, they weren't even that."/Eriol looked desperate now. His eyes were intense enough to make me shiver. 

/As everything in this universe has its opposite, its antithesis, so did the cards. There were good cards, and I had to create some evil cards. It is the way of magic. There is good and evil magic. Luckily we have been able to contain the evil magic, until now. Sakura dear, you must collect these two cards, or there will be imminient doom on earth./

There was silence. Syaoran let out a breath. He raised his head slowly. There was silence in the wood, and only a lonely wind rustled the trees like satin, and the moon gilded everything with a silver shimmer. The earthy scent of earth and wind and water were mingling, and sharpening my senses. It was not possible what I was seeing. 

/Let it be done, Clow. But how will it be accomplished? I sense that these cards are not like the others./ Eriol nodded approvingly.

/Very good, Cute Descendant. You can't just sense these, this time. You not only need magical ability, but you need the second sight./ Sakura looked a bit worried, now.

/The second sight, Eriol?/ she burst out. /You can only be born with that!!/ 

Eriol shook his head, chuckling. 

/There are certain advantages of once having been the most powerful sorcerer on earth. I discovered a spell in case these two cards were released somehow. So I have it. But I still cannot figure out how these cards escaped./ Eriol frowned darkly. 

/I smell a rat./ He said in a low tone.

/Not a rat,/ a deep, cold voice said, /but a raven./ Eriol's head stared straight ahead, but the figure was behind him.

/Hello, Belisarius./ Eriol said noncommitially. He turned with a fluid motion, and though his stance did not change, he held the air of being ready for death and killing. A dark young man, with the complexion of an Italian, walked from the shadows. He held a long broadsword, double-handled. This Belisarius was very good looking, but the dark look in his eyes were frightening.

/So glad you remember me, Creator./

/You're a turncoat./ Eriol said airily. He affected to not care about anything at the moment. Belisarius gave a shudder of mock fear. Syaoran laughed derisively at him.

/Whatever you say, oh all wise and powerful Clow Reed./ Belisarius gave a mocking bow. It seemed that he was never sincere. Eriol turned his head, annoyed.

/What do you want, Belisarius?/ Eriol did not seem to care one way or another about this Belisarius, but his stance betrayed his wariness.

/Retribution, Creator./ Belisarius cocked his head to one side. I  ducked, my heart pounding furiously. He had not seen me. He had not.

/I see you're trying to give the Gift, Clow./ Eriol's mouth tipped sardonically.

/There are many gifts in the world./ He stated. It seemed that he enjoyed being preverse today, too.

/Let me clarify it for you. The Gift of Second Sight./ Eriol gasped sarcastically, in such a derisive and mocking manner that the three surrounding him could not help but laugh despite the situation. Belisarius did not look pleased. He did not know that he had touched on the truth.

/The Court of the Eagle, Tomorrow, at noon. We duel, Clow./ Eriol raised an eyebrow.

/For retribution./ Belisarius clarified. And then there was a gust of wind, and he was gone. Eriol looked on in silence. He opened his mouth to say something, when a strong arm clamped itself around me and someone tied a gag to stop me from crying out. I was turned, and my eyes widened in surprise as I saw it. It was Belisarius.

The look in his eyes told me that he was mocking me, but I did not care. Eriol had now raised his hands towards Sakura, who was right in front of me.

/My gift to you, dear, whoever you are./ Belisarius kissed my cheek laughingly, and tossed me infront of Sakura. A flash of light hit me, and nothing more. 

I was knocked senseless for a few moments, until Syaoran helped me up and untied my gag. He was watching me suspiciously, and with the same controlled movements of Eriol. I stood shakingly. There was nothing but silence. The soft wind ruffled my hair, and I shivered in its caress.

/Well dear Anna,/ Eriol said in a deceptively light tone, /I hope you enjoy the gift of the second sight./ I gaped at him like an idiot, and stuttered inanely.

/I, I mean I didn't…, I really wasn't…, there wasn't any…, I didn't mean to!/ I burst out finally. Eriol made a soothing noise. 

/I know you didn't, Anna, and I somehow don't think that I could trick you into believing something else than the truth. You will keep our little secret, won't you, darling?/ He was manipulating me, and I didn't care. I nodded quickly, out of my wits at the moment. There was really nothing else to do.

/You do want me to reverse the gift, or would you rather keep it?/ I shook my head, then nodded. Eriol was watching me, and watching my nerves unravel in a humiliating manner. I really should have left sooner, I thought.

/You want it reversed, don't you?/ Eriol said soothingly. I nodded more surely this time. 

/Good./ He said more grimly. /Because if you retained it, and I still found no way to release it, then he could set a spell on you, marry you, consumate that marriage, and keep your powers at his command, provided he is faithful to you. And the Guardian of the Jokers would do it./ I looked a bit horrified.

/Can you reverse this?/ I asked, more than a bit panicked. He patted me gently on the shoulder.

/You can always reverse magic, in one way or another./ He said reassuringly. Then Tomoyo spoke for the first time, her voice like magic and more beautiful that anything I have ever heard then or since.

/And the duel at the Court of the Eagle, Eriol? What of that?/ she asked quietly. Eriol looked resolved, a steely resolve.

/I will meet him at the duel./ He said quietly, also. /For now, there is nothing else to do./ Tomoyo watched in silence. First Eriol, then me.


	4. The Court of the Eagle

Like Birds in the Wind

Chapter 4: The Court of the Eagle

An Eriol/Tomoyo Alterfic

We made a tight fit in the classic black convertible, a fine German-made machine that had the subtle hum of restrained power. Like Eriol himself, I had remembered thinking. Eriol was ever benign and benevolent, but sometimes in strain there was a shade of him, holding himself in somehow. And now I knew what it was that he had held back.

It was a very nice day, fluffy clouds casting shades of shadows over the greenery in the dense forest. Sometimes the sun penetrated the dense, verdant canopy, and arrow-straight rays of gold gilded the leaves to a brilliant shimmer. We were headed to the Court of the Eagle. Eriol had explained it as the dueling place for those who possessed magic. Apparently, this Belisarius had very much taken advantage of it. I would later find out, at the duel, why exactly it was called the Court of the Eagle.

I was a silly young girl then, believing Eriol wholeheartedly that magic could always be reversed. It is never reversed to its original self without some sort of price. And there was a great price to be paid.

On our way there, Eriol explained some of what had happened, concerning Belisarius. He was the Keeper of the Jokers, and turned evil somewhere along the line. He was a traitor to the cards-for I now knew what these cards were, those magic possessing cards that granted one powers, whomsoever held them. And Sakura held them, held that vast power. Belisarius was angry at his meager powers over only two cards, and despised the fact that Yue took the position that he should of held. Eriol, as Clow back then, had banished him, but apparently that was not enough. Now Belisarius was back, and wanted revenge for the banishment.

There was a heavy silence in the car, except for Eriol's calm, rational voice droning on about this spell to use or some other. He told me of why I had to be there, because I was the object that they were contesting. I remembering blushing at that, that Eriol was dueling someone for me, even if it was only the power that I held. Syaoran looked distracted, frowning at nothing and thinking hard. Sakura had a concentrated look on her face, and was muttering to herself, and tapping her fingers on the armrest. Tomoyo was merely staring out of the window, her gloriously purple eyes blank and empty as an expensive china doll's. She looked as if she was not alive, not breathing, and had never breathed nor lived. She seemed like something so above me that it was not even comprehensible.

We pulled up to a small park, a vista of elegant trees, poplars, I think they were, and beyond that perfect circle of poplars was a great circle of marble, right in the direct center. It must have spanned at least a hundred feet across, fine pale marble inlaid with painstakingly intricate patterns of differently colored stone. There were perhaps ten steps leading up to this circle, the base of a great temple that did not lead to a temple. A circle of polished Corinthian columns encircled the circle, and there was not a sound save the lonely wind and the rustling of the trees and the cheery birds singing their eternally merry song. And there was no one there, except for a dark young man, of aristocratic mien but with a dark, ruminating expression. He truly did look out of place in this park of light and sun.

He stood at our approach, and as he watched Eriol carefully while he got out of the car and mounted the steps. There was a smaller platform at each cardinal direction of the platform, which I assumed was for viewing. Sakura, her husband, Tomoyo and I mounted this platform. There was a vibrating tenseness in the air. 

A ripple in the air traveled around the perimeter of the Court when Eriol entered it, and I saw now that there was a great eagle, wings outstretched, emblazoned in the dead center of the court. The duel was to begin.

/Weapon of previous agreement, broadsword./ Belisarius stated flatly. He did not seem to care that he was to duel until one of them was on the ground and unable to rise. Eriol nodded in assent, and they gave each other polite bows. 

/Bird of prey, deigned by the Court, the eagle./ Eriol said just as coolly. He stood at one end of the court, while his opponent stood at the direct opposite end. 

Tomoyo stood, and walked to the North Platform, as Syaoran had informed me. She was to be the judge, because she was the only one here not possessing powers now, because I had received the gift of second sight.. And she was to be impartial. Tomoyo's violet eyes were serene, ever tranquil. She knew what to do. 

Tomoyo held a silver bell, finely crafted even at this distance, and said in a clear voice that carried,

/First. The Heights of the Eagle./ And she rang the bell once. Its tone carried, as her voice did. Eriol and Belisarius suddenly rose into the air, levitating at the same height, perhaps ten feet up, directly across from each other.

/Second. The Mien of the Eagle./ Tomoyo rang the bell twice, and a flash of light vertical under both duelers shot up, and wings were suddenly outstretched. Both men had one white wing, one black wing, representing the struggle between good and evil, as Sakura told me. They were large, and poetic in form, but on their joints were steel scales, glinting with jewels in the noonday sun. 

/Third. The Armaments of the Duelers./ She rang the bell three times, and the flash of light was there again, and suddenly they wore armor. I could see Eriol's eyes closed, concentrating on the magic at hand. Steel armor, gauntlets and breastplates and a crested helmet. Only one shoulder was covered in steel. He held a long broadsword, its long length flashing light.

/Fourth. Let the duel commence./ Tomoyo rang the bell four slow times, and suddenly a current of readiness, an air of death was assumed. The two men held aloft for a moment. They drifted with their wings propelling, and went around in a slow circle, measuring each other somehow. 

And then, in the blink of an eye, they charged, quicker than lightning, and their weapons made a sonorous sound that did not fit the utter aura of danger. They were both thrown back at the force. Eriol propelled himself up, raised his sword with great might, and charged again, and brought his sword down. When it seemed he had nearly struck Belisarius, he swerved and avoided the strike. 

To and fro they flew, fleet in their steel-tipped wings of eagles, long swords clashing in a heat, a frenzy of struggle. It had been nearly fifteen minutes, and both swordsmen were cut, but neither was on the ground. They seemed motionless for a long moment. And then, faster than anything, they met thirty feet above the marble floor, and crashed into each other. There was a struggle in midair for some time, grappling deadly with the steel-tipped pinions of their wings slashing at each other, before they spun headfirst towards the marble ground. At the last moment, Eriol dragged himself back up with a great fluttering of wings, and then both were aloft again. 

I will never in my life forget the look in Eriol's eyes, so very concentrated and deadly. They were steely hard and cold as ice, never wavering from their target, a stare that was death's stare. For him, it was a duel to the proverbial death, and the constant determination was showing in the graceful way he moved through the air. It was almost poetic. Danger crackled like static electricity in the air, and was heavy as a fog that might covere the court.

They darted over the beautiful marble expanse, made for the dance of beauty and death, their wings straining with effort to move so quickly for such a long time. Both were covered with sweat and blood, and the steel of their armor glinted with the jewels set in them, shimmering mercilessly in the hot sun. The only four spectators watched in silence. On the court fluttered a few black and white feathers.

I was terrified then, my hands cold and damp, my heartbreat erratic, and sitting there pensively, watching with a horrible fascination at the two men who moved with such dangerous grace, almost too fast for my eyes to follow. Eriol's wings climbed again, and he dove at Belisarius with such speed that he didn't have enough time to react. This was his opening. He charged with such force that he drove the sword into Belisarius' shoulder, and he was down.

Eriol could not avoid the ground, so he also hit the immaculate marble, save for the few feathers, and crashed into a column. The situation did not look good. Both duelers were down, but Eriol was regaining his altitude quicker. He pulled out a long, slender dagger, set in gold and jewels, for hand-to-hand combat. The final rungs of the duel were to end here.

Suddenly, Belisarius leapt up so fast that Eriol did not have time to block or par, but only try to avert the attack to the best of his ablility. He almost succeeded, but then both were on the ground, unable to rise at the last.

Sakura stood worriedly, and she and Tomoyo shared a long look. They could not do anything until one regained his heights, or until one surrendered. There was a magical barrier that prevented all outside intervention. A ripple went through the air inside the court again, and Syaoran stood, also looking worried. I remember that he had said something about it being the last rungs of the battle. The very last.

I almost did not notice, had it not been for Syaoran staring hard at Belisarius, and giving the vilest curse I had ever heard, was when he pointed out to me that Belisarius had taken something out. It was a small glass ball, edged in golden lace, holding something like fog inside it. 

It was a mist of cease-fire. Belisarius did proclaim a cease-fire, one that would only work by chance alone. If it was decided-by whom, and where, it is not known-that there would be a cease-fire, then both combatants would be released, and it was decided to release Eriol and Belisarius. This cease-fire was not like others, for it was magical, enstating that both contestants could never again fight, for there would be some… restraint holding them from it. That is the best I could explain it, only some restraint. So much of magic is unexplainable, nebulous, confusing. All that I could tell you is that they were bound to never fight again. 

At that moment Syaoran told Sakura that Belisarius had to have something up his sleeve to call the cease-fire. He wanted my newly acquired talents too much for just a point blank cease-fire. With my second sight, he could see the auras of those who possess powers other than that of the majority of the population, and take their power. I still do not understand how he could do it, but I am no magician.

The cease-fire was called by that unknown entity. The cool mist, colored steel gray and sparkling white covered the court. Both duelers were attempting to fight it, for it was little known what would happen with the cease-fire, but suddenly they went limp and unconcious. Sakura was watching with an air of readiness, an air of being poised on the brink. We all watched, transfixed, as Eriol was lifted by the fog, embraced in it, until it made a large, grey cocoon around him. his wings were slowly folded for him, and they covered him completely. The mist then turned thicker and darker, until it was as black as night, and it tightened. 

/There's something wrong./ Sakura had muttered. Syaoran shook his head.

/We don't know./ He told her.

All of the sudden, the fog turned lighter and lighter until it disolved completely and Eriol was dropped gently to the ground. He was unconcious, and a bleeding cut marred his cheek. Eriol was covered with

blood. In fact, there was so much blood that I could not see how he could still be alive while having lost so much blood. The wings and weapons were gone, and all he was left with was torn clothing and rivers

of blood. The duel was still not done.


	5. Nightingale at Dusk

Like Birds in the Wind

Chapter 5: Nightingale at Dusk [Eriol Interlude]

An Eriol/Tomoyo Alterfic

Lime Warning

/Did you inform Miss Windsor?/ Tomoyo asked calmly. Rationally and utterly emotionlessly. Other women in her place would be crying, bawling perhaps, or maybe throwing a hideous fit of rage. Eriol closed the ancient oaken door gently, and turned to face her. He leaned against the polished wood in a deceptively casual and suave manner. He nodded briskly. 

It was too dim in this room, he thought absently. It was all very old and beautiful, the rich colors of oriental carpets, leather-bound books, gilt, and polished wood giving a glow of their own. The massive rotunda-library was his favorite room. On the ceiling, painted on the rotunda, were all the constellations. 

A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace that stretched half its marbled length across a far wall of the room, and it made this corner by far the coziest. He would often take a book and sit on this ridiculously long leather couch, its back almost as high as he was tall, and covered with thick throws and tapestry pillows.

/She knows./ It was suddenly very hard for her to face her after he uttered those two words, very hard to make himself look at her when he knew, truly and irrevocably, that it was his fault.

/What did she say to it?/ Tomoyo's voice was quiet now. It was still as beautiful as anything, as a single century-old violin, as a harp from the North of Italy, as an angel or siren or anything that make you want to laugh and cry to hear it. A nightingale at dusk, perhaps. Eriol looked at her carefully. She was dressed impeccably, and always at the height of fashion, definitely Versace and perhaps Coco Chanel perfume that drifted around her. Her hair was up in elegant, jeweled pins, those old-fashioned ones designed to hold in a Renaissance lady's voluminous amounts of hair. They were studded with pearls, set in silver, and done in swirls and scrolls.

All of it was designed to impress, sometimes intimidate others. But Eriol was not intimidated. He closed his eyes briefly, unable to face the look she would wear when those fatal words came from his mouth.

/She agreed./ He told her. Tomoyo flinched only slightly, but her breathing was increasing enormously. She bit her lip hard.

/Just as I thought. Your future is safeguarded, Hiirarizawa-kun./ she said mildly. He frowned. No. He was yearning, starving for her to say his name, to watch her poetic, lush lips form its sound. He was thirsting to hear it, as he thirsted every day to see her face, to touch her, to kiss her. This was like taking it all away.

/You may rest in peace, now. Marrying Anna to prevent Belisarius from doing it will not only stop him from being able to touch her powers, but it will also let you be able to revoke it./ Tomoyo continued. She still showed no sign of disturbance, save for that slightest tremor in her silvery voice. His yearning for her and for her to say his name, was like a physical addiction. She was as potent as belladonna, as any drug that had ever caused addiction.

/But,/ he said, /but I must stay married to her, and stay faithful to the day of her death, or all will be lost./

/Yes./ Tomoyo watched him. she breathed in sharply. /That is true./ Eriol opened his mouth, but she interjected sharply,

/But you cannot help it./ Her voice was severe. It made him flinch as if someone had struck him. No, he would not have flinched if someone had hit him. When she saw this, her voice softened, as did her expression. Her eyes like pools of deep amethyst became warmer, more luminous.

/Sometimes, Eriol, there are things in this world that are more important that we ourselves./ It was as if she were speaking to herself, as well as him. He wanted to savor the way she said his name, savor everything about her, for she would leave him tomorrow at noon.

/Sometimes, there are things that must be set before ourselves, and this is one of these things./ Tomoyo turned her head to look out the window at the serene moon, or to hide an anguished expression.

/You are good to me Eriol, to erase my memory of you./ Her breath caught, and she inhaled painfully.

/For if I remembered you for any more time until tomorrow noon, then I could not bear it./ And she gave a tiny sob, and she was shaking. His heart was hurting almost as if it were a physical pain, and in a swift movement, he held her so tightly he was afraid that he had broken her. She was so slight and fragile, it was like holding a delicate little bird, a glass figurine, or a child.

Tomoyo touched him, and his pulse leapt. At her very touch, his heart started to pound and strange elixirs mixed in his blood. She did not know how much she unnerved him. Only she could do it. Her pale skin like snow was flushed, from the fire or from his physical proximity he did not know, and her hair fell through his fingers like cool water. He touched her tall column of throat, and felt the pulse in it pound furiously. He put his mouth there, and she melted into his arms as if she had been fitted to him, melded to him. Her eyes were darker now with some unknown passion awakened.

His hands of their own volition traveled across her back, up to her neck to caress it, and into her hair to tear out her multitude of pins. They fell to the floor like fallen angels, and the inky hair framed Tomoyo's face to make her look like an erotic painting, a seductress.

He traced the pale line of her throat with his lips, then of her shoulder bared from where he had pushed aside the silky fabric. Her breathing was as ragged as his own, and a passion dormant was sparked alive and had exploded into existence. Their passion was created from long yearnings and heartbreaking despair, and would not be sated. His hands and mouth and embrace became hotter, more persistent, and more passionate. He did not know what he was doing, only that he had to do it. He was breathless from hot, passionate kisses that made Tomoyo pliant in his arms.

/Stay the night with me./ He said softly, voice gone husky and sensual. She nodded feverishly, and brought his head back down to hers. He ravaged her mouth thoroughly.

It was as if the scent of her hair and body were an aphrodisiac, and it intoxicated him as the finest wine might. His mouth and hands roamed over her, traveled over the pale, bare skin, making her demand more, and more than he could ever give. He touched her, and drew out every pleasure that he could give her until it bordered on pain. She writhed in his arms, her touch like fire and only serving to add more to his own fires. Tomoyo's eyes were so dark now with the hum of the passion that filled the air, and he still could not get enough of her as he sank into her, and as the world exploded. There was nothing but her and the pleasure that bordered on pain. And he could never have enough of her, because he loved her.

He woke to painful sunlight, bright and harsh and sterile. Tomoyo was still asleep, looking like a sleeping angel. It was eleven o'clock in the morning, almost noon. It was almost time for the spell to take effect, and it would do no good to be there when she had forgotten. About him. He dressed quickly. She was still asleep, thank the gods. Tomoyo was laying in a most provocative manner, elegant and sensual at the same time, amongst a tangle of sheets in a huge, cavernous bed. Pale, silky skin was exposed and iluminated to a translucent alabaster color. It was time to go.

Her lids were closed, and long, black lashes lay themselves curled up on her cheeks. He drew a finger over a high cheekbone. She was his for only a few minutes more. Dainty oval-shaped nails that were perfectly buffed and manicured, lay on the crisp white linens, and he closed his eyes as he remembered how those slender, beautiful hands had touched him. Eriol was torturing himself, but he wanted to do it.

Eriol could not bear to tear himself away, but somehow he did. He placed a last gentle, lingering kiss on her lips, and forced himself out of the room, out of her life forever. He looked back for one last time, before shutting the door and walking away.

Er, I think that that was a bit overdone. *Hides head under a folder* Don't shoot! Please! I REPENT!! I REPENT!!!!! Oh Please, forgive my angst! I should have known better than to do such a self-fulfilling deed, but oh, I REPENT!!


	6. The Dove of Fate

Like Birds in the Wind

An Eriol/Tomoyo Alterfic

Chapter 6: The Dove of Fate [Tomoyo Interlude]

Good day. My name is Daidouji Tomoyo, but my name by marriage is Aubin. I married a very beautiful Frenchman, Jean-Claude, years ago. He was one of the last of the Bourbon line. Jean-Claude had very beautiful cinnamon hair and honey-colored eyes, that everyone in the world should have seen. I wanted to come to speak with you today because dear Anna had requested it, and of course her ever doting husband, Hiiragizawa Eriol granted her request. They are quite the couple, and I am so very happy for them.

It is good to see that there is still love in the world, such that Anna and Eriol have. Oh, but Anna is such a darling that you could not help but love her. Her very expressive grey eyes are like the ocean through a thick, shimmering mist, and sparkle as diamonds might, and her blond hair is quite exquisite. And Eriol, [do not let my husband ever hear] yet he is extraordinarily handsome, too. They are quite the couple. His eyes are very dark blue, and wise and dignified, with such beautiful black hair and a physique not unlike my darling Jean-Claude's. In fact, Jean-Claude and Eriol are good friends, and they are always stared at when they go out. It seems that I have never become Eriol's friend, for some odd reason. 

Sometimes it is as if Eriol were deliberately avoiding me. No, it is not quite so pronounced as that, yet it seems that he is holding himself away from me, as if I were repulsive. Please do forgive my petty musings, for they might hold no weight or truth at all, yet it seems, sometimes, just for a tiny bit, that he holds himself from my friendship. I don't know why, and Anna does not either. I do not know what I might have done to warrant such repulsion.

But please, do not let my assumptions turn the mood dark, and let us think of happier things. I was once very unhappy, you know. I was convinced that if the one I loved was happy, then I would be in turn. If so, it was a terribly lonely, despairing happiness. I don't even remember quite how I got over it, yet I did. I remember, vaguely and faintly, that it was some young boy that was a good friend. It is such a shame that I can no longer remember his name, nor even much about him except that he was very wise with the world, even at such a young age. If I do ever remember him, I must visit with him again. I will be in his debt forever.

Let us not be unhappy, however, because everything in life will seem so grey and hopeless, but we do not know that it will always work out somehow, even if we cannot see it through our haze of despair. No, old friend, even after all these years, I cannot be unhappy. Life took away youth and youthful pleasures when it had not even begun, yet it gave back to me my darling Jean-Claude, and beautiful France and Paris and Bordeaux, whom I all hold in my heart dear. And of course it gave back to me my friends, Anna, and Sakura, and Syaoran, and I must say Eriol because he has done so much for me, to make me happy. I truly do wonder sometimes what I have done to elicit such generosity and kindness from him.

And then Jean-Claude came into my life. It was the benevolent Eriol who introduced us, and as I later found out, had the intentioin of setting us up. He did a spectacular job, if I do say so myself. It is strange how Eriol does such kind things for me. Sometimes, when I look at his face, it was almost as if I knew him so much more than I really do. Sometimes in idle moments, it was almost as if he were so very familiar, so very near. But I suppose that is the sort of person he is, that makes you think that he is much more familiar to you; it is his special type of charm and enigmatic personality. 

Jean-Claude has given me love and life and happiness, as well as two beautiful children. We have spent so many years together that I do not think I could ever live without him. He is evermore faithful and tells me daily that I am the most beautiful woman in the world, and that I am his only goddess of love. Even when I doubt myself, my beauty, my intellect, he never has and has pledged that he never will be.  I don't know what I could have possibly done to deserve him, yet I am thankful, always.

Enough about me, what about my dear friends throughout all these years? Sometimes when I look back, it seems that they have not changed at all. Anna and Eriol remain ever so faithful to each other, Anna still as in love with him as she was, all those years ago, and Eriol kind and gentle that I do never see any other side of him at all. He does seem older than he really is, at times, and is exceeding benevolent. I do worry for him sometimes, for in random moments, he has a look in his eyes as if he were dying and starving inside for something, and it is so near yet so far, unattainable though he could almost touch it. I worry for him, as well as hope, and wish there was something that I might do about it because of his heart of gold that he has always shown me. It is well, I think, that Anna does not know, for it would only worry her. Her health is weakening, for the years have taken their toll, yet she is bright and fresh and energetic as always. I hope that she and Eriol might be happy together forever.

Oh Sakura, and Syaoran, such dear friends I will never again find. Sakura is still refreshingly childish and simple, and has not changed so much as one might warrant the decades to do. Syaoran is evermore her watcher, her guardian angel, and has taken over as the leader of the Li Clan many years ago. I still remember the pride and love in his eyes as he was presented to his bride, his breatiful bride on his wedding day. It makes your heart weak because of the pure love and bliss exhibited. They deserve so much more, as much love as there is in the world.

And children. Extensions, very limbs of ourselves that if they are cut or injured, as are we. Sakura and Syaoran had such a family, of four children. Two boys and two girls, amongst them the same, auburn hair and the girls inheriting their mother's green eyes, and the boys their father's chocolate ones. I am still the Little Aunt Tomoyo, and still bring them gifts, though they are grown now. It is like living life all over again through them and their exuberance and youth. It is the happiest feeling in the world to guide them through their trials and tribulations, and applauding their successes and victories. I wish them happy lives.

My poor Anna had so many problems with pregnancy; she suffered heavily, but gave Eriol an infant girl. She was beautiful. Although she now is delicate and slim, I am still her godmother Tomoyo who embroiders fantastical dresses for her, and takes her out on Sundays. Eriol and Anna both seemed happy with the relationship between their daughter and I. As am I. She is to be wed soon, and I am busy making the most beautiful wedding dress I could fathom. 

Jean-Claude gave me two children, a boy and a girl. The little boy that I had borne with much difficulty so many years ago is now to marry the daughter of Anna and Eriol. It will be a blessed event, the union of such close friends. We will finally be family. Our daughter, still my little girl, is a famous author now. Her face has been splashed across the world, and we are shining with pride. Our joy has come to be because she has now shared her singular and remarkable talent with the written word with the world. 

I remember taking my darling girl to the museums, to the Musee d'Orsay and to the Louvre, to wander the endless stretches of corridors where some of the world's finest art was housed. The very air was of irreplaceable beauty and the triumph of the human intellect, and my daughter would write little impromptu poems on her pink-spangled stationery that Jean-Claude would purchase for her. Sonomi had endless joy in all of these children, and now as she is retired, lets them keep her busy. I fear that she thrives only when there is work to be done. She frequently shuttles between France, England, and Hong Kong. She will never stop moving. 

Yes, I am smiling, and I am crying. I could not possibly tell you how very happy I am today, with all that life has given me. Youth, I weathered, and now age I embrace. Although I no longer look so young as I had, it is of no consequence because there is always Jean-Claude who will always find me beautiful. And I also laugh and cry for all of my darling friends, who have stayed true and constant throughout all these years. For Anna, who gave me simple joy in being her friend, for Eriol, who has given me so much happiness that I could never repay him, for Sakura, my best friend for the much greater part of my life, for the ever-stoic Syaoran who will never change though all else does, and for my Jean-Claude who has such faith in me.

Let me tell you of something, old friend. We are old comrades-in-arms, for though you do not know me, and I do not know you, we share a common bond of simply living. Living, that dance as old as time of love and life and beauty and happiness, is shared by all of us. Sometimes, it seems bleak and hopeless, but that is the beauty of life. The beauty of it is that it is always reversible, that whatever we do might be changed again someday in the future. You might call it fate. Fate is a dove, at peace with all that is touches, though what it might touch is not peaceful. Nothing will stand still forever, which is why we must live each of our days to its fullest, for on one of those days, it will be our last.

Please, do not be gloomy or sad. It is not that way in this world. I wish you well now, and I wish for you to live a happy life. Live, and love. Those are the things that makes life what it is. Believe that things will get better, and all will be well. You have seen that I triumphed over everything that might make me gloomy, or perhaps wish for death, but death is not the answer. Love is. Do heed my wishes. Please be happy, and be good-hearted. I give you my blessings now, and hope that you leave in peace. You will do well.


	7. Swallow in Autumn Wind

Like Birds in the Wind

An Eriol/Tomoyo Alterfic

Chapter 7: Swallow in Autumn Wind

Tomoyo never knew. I am quite certain of it, for as I learned years after Eriol's death that he had set it so that all would be remembered after his death, so it would safeguard the future if he were gone. He was a great man. At the moment of his death, I remembered all the events that had happened so long ago, those fuzzy vague images suddenly became harshly clear, as I  remembered what exactly had happened. But mercifully, Tomoyo never remembered him as he had been to her. She died about a few days before Eriol, as Eriol had cast a spell over himself to make sure that it was she who died first, as his last gift to his lost love. Oh, but he suffered so much for her. Eriol did not want Tomoyo to go through what he did, so he used the last of his power for her. As always, it was for her. His last days here on earth were wrought with suffering, both mental and physical, as his body failed him though he was once the greatest sorcerer on earth. I think that he died well.

I cannot be bitter or resentful, as only Sakura and I are alive now, Syaoran and Jean-Claude having died only a few years before Tomoyo and Eriol left us. It was my duty to safeguard this world by surrendering those memories, and I did it. Eriol was the one who truly suffered. I sometimes wonder how he could have kept it up, all those long years of despairing and yearning. It is of no consequence, however. Now, we reminisce over those Cards, as Sakura is ready to pass them to her eldest daughter for safekeeping. I know that by fate it was Tomoyo who was destined to be with Eriol, and be happier than she ever could have been with Jean-Claude, although I must say that she was very happy.

Eriol had left me a will, stating his reasons for doing the things he did, and old confusing memories come rushing back to me as now I will remember the reason why he did the unexplainable things that he did. I remembered out wedding night, on a yacht ready to bear us across the world for almost a month, when he approached me as my husband. I had already forgotten about Belisarius and his cards by then. Eriol approached me, as I was frightened and shy, when he suddenly turned back. I thought that I saw his face contort with anguish. Then his mask was back up again, and he made love to me.

I remember now with startling clarity of his love towards me. He never had thoughts of being unfaithful to me, having been bound by Belisarius to me, and by his want for Tomoyo. He was loving, yes, and gentle, yet I never realized that gentle kindness and tenderness were only the shadows of a man's loving.  It was not always gentle and kind. Somehow, he could not give me that. But I do not blame him for anything. It was not his fault. He did what he had to, and saved both Tomoyo and I as he suffered for all of us. 

Everyone had expected Eriol and Tomoyo to marry, and when he and I married, there was rampant gossip. Tomoyo and he no longer acted like the couple, the veritable soulmates anymore, yet he counted himself lucky that no one asked either Tomoyo nor I about it. Thank heavens for politeness.

I once was in a park, perhaps the same park of Godwinson where Belisairus had thrown me into my fate. It was a windy autumn, and I was watching the sky and trees and how very loving they seemed towards each other. The strong wind and light and richly hued leaves danced with each other, their fates intertwined with each other.  I do not know why exactly I remember this, yet I think it was because of the lonely little swallow, trying to fly against the currents of the wind. It flew north, only to be blow back the way from which it came. It tried, again and again, only to be futilely blown back. Again and again it tried, and I watched it. Finally, it lost its strength, and let itself be blown away towards the horizon, when I couldn't see it anymore. 

You see, that is fate, the wind, and we are the swallow who struggles against it. Fate will blow us in one direction, when we desire another, yet we cannot resist it because it is so strong. All we can do is to follow it, whether it makes us happy or despairing. Now that I have regained my memory, I realize just how symbolic that little bird was. We are very much like it; we are almost kin in our eternal struggle. 

I conclude my story now, and I hope that I have cleared up what was so strange. It no longer seems so strange, does it? I do not know what you will make of my story, whether you will commiserate or look on in pity and empathy, or else wonder how Eriol had borne it. I myself do not know how he could have stood it, with such love in his heart for a woman, yet never being able to express it though he sometimes would sleep under the same roof with her, when he and I would visit with Tomoyo and Jean-Claude. But he won his victory. To the final last, he had won his victory. I pray for his soul, and hope that wherever he is, he is finally reunited with his lost love. I hope that they will have a beautiful eternity, together, as it should have been. As fated to be as that swallow in the autumn wind, in the end.

-Fin-

Yay! My first finished fic! Please do review and make my day. I hope you liked it. This story was meant as a comment on how so many stories are happy endings, but sometimes they do not reflect the truth about things, about how life really is. Sometimes you must make sacrifices, and bear it with dignity.


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